I receive some reassurance from
That sliver of the Platte that I see
Gleaming in the sun. The rest
Of my life's gone to flux. Will I
Be here a month from now, and, if
I am, will I be saddled with enormous
Debts to pay, and fines? These are
Not idle questions. They're what
Torment me at night, when those
Whose lives aren't filled with tumult
Sleep contentedly, believing their
Existences are constant, like
The shining Platte.